Love letters: My child, so grown

by Bonnie Pockley

Here we lie, you and I. Backs flat against the floor and held so close. My child, my baby, so grown and I, suddenly, shockingly, see you gone. The softness flown. Older now and on your own. You come to visit but it’s not the same. Not like this where the world is young and the day in all its chaotic, dizzying grace, revolves around the opportunity for this embrace. This infant bond. And here we lie, you and I. Someday soon you’ll be older and gone, no longer my baby but still my son and I cannot help but mourn your growth, pull you nearer, kiss your face.